


Stowaways

by Anonanonsir



Category: Enderal (Video Game)
Genre: Backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 09:21:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14257869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonanonsir/pseuds/Anonanonsir
Summary: Another short piece with Eska and Sirius. Seasick and miserable and just trying to survive the passage to Enderal.





	Stowaways

Eska woke in the pitch dark of the ship’s hold, the deck beneath him rocking in a steady swell. The heavy, cold damp of rain permeated everything and he was aware of an uncomfortable sense of absence, a space at his back where Sirius normally slept and he felt a flicker of panic. It didn’t matter that rationally he knew they were in a cramped corner of the ship’s hold, after so many days, the darkness had begun to feel more real than the timbers around them. There was a constant, disorienting sense of isolation, and physical contact was their only reassurance.

He stirred, his limbs wobbly and heavy with fatigue as he pushed to his knees, nausea washing over him as he came fully to consciousness. “Sirius?” he whispered, and from the darkness several feet away came an answering murmur -- “Here.” -- and Eska could breathe again.

From somewhere above their heads came the forlorn peal of the ship’s bell. Another hour gone. Gods, they seemed to crawl by. He could hear a voice barking orders in an unfamiliar accent and the low drumming of many feet across the deck. The changing of a watch. It must have been nearly morning then. 

“You think you can keep something down?” he asked, more of a croak than a whisper. His throat felt dry as dust.  

The response was barely audible, a hoarse, spiritless affirmative. 

Several days of rough seas had taken their toll. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they could have glimpsed a horizon or felt a breath of wind on their faces, but below decks there was nothing but rolling darkness and dank, heavy air that smelled of their own vomit and piss. They’d been sick as dogs ever since they left Ostian. 

More footsteps overhead. Just one set this time, unhurried but steady, drawing closer. One of the warrant officers making his rounds. They’d learned the pattern by now. Eska waited until the footsteps were over the top of them and for those handful of moments just the barest bit of lantern light peeked through the grating, giving vague outlines to his hands as he unstoppered their waterskin and carefully poured the precious liquid into the small, wooden cup -- one measure, two measures, feeling with his finger to be sure not to overfill. 

He shifted, finding Sirius’ hand in the darkness and pressing the cup into it, before settling down beside him. 

“This is double.” He could hear the frown in his friend’s voice.

“You didn’t have any yesterday.” The days all blurred together. Perhaps he wouldn’t remember.

“Fuck you.” His voice was bleary and hoarse, little more than an exhale as he shoved the half-empty cup back into Eska’s hand. “Finish it.”

Eska knew better than to argue -- Sirius could always tell when he was lying -- and swallowed the scant mouthful of warm, bitter tasting water. One measure a day each and they’d have enough for eight days. It should be enough if they weren’t taken too far off course by storms. 

He nudged Sirius, half playful, half reassuring, but there was no response. Shoulder to shoulder he could feel the miserable tension running through him. 

“It’ll be alright. It’s been what -- three? Four days? Just a few more and we’ll have made it.”

“And then what?” his friend countered bitterly. “We have no money, no food--”

“We didn’t have that in Ostian.”

“But we _knew_ Ostian. We knew how it worked. We knew the people. And--”

“And that’s why we bloody  _ left! _ ”

“You really think the Endralians are going to want to hire a couple thieving, Nehrimese stowaways?”

“You’re not a thief.”

“What do you call this then?”

“So we should have what? Stayed in Ostian? With Coarek at the bloody gates?”

“No! I don’t know. I just --” There was a heavy sigh from the darkness beside him and Eska felt a familiar pang of shame and frustration. No matter how many times they had this argument, they always came back to it.

“I can get us coin. You know I can. We won’t starve. Give you time to find proper work. No one even has to know that we’re -- that you know me.”

“What? That’s not -- Damnit, Eska, that’s not what I meant. You know it’s not. It’s just…. Gods, I don’t know. If nothing changes, then what’s the bloody point?”

“No war and no slavers, that’s not the worst start.”

There was a weak laugh. “Don’t set the bar  _ too _ high.”

Eska snorted softly, slipping an arm around Sirius’ shoulders. He’d never felt like this before. He ought to have been afraid, but he wasn’t. There was an eagerness, an excitement which even his parched throat and queasy stomach could not seem to dampen. He felt hopeful. Not the starved, empty longing he had so often mistaken for hope. This was warm and bright as summer. It filled him up, all the aching, empty places and buzzed through his veins like wine until he was dizzy with it. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

“It’s going to be better. I know it is.”

He felt Sirius shift beside him, his shoulders going slack, sagging into him with a sigh. 

“I hope you’re right.”


End file.
